Soup
by Devan Alexander
Summary: Skye tattles on May and Coulson comes to help... and she can too cook, at least a few things. a hint of philinda


**Soup**

By

Devan Alexander

Skye was hungry so she headed to the galley on the base. She entered to find Agent May seated at the cutting board cutting up beef. A large kettle of water was on the burner. She knew May'd been hurt, badly. She knew Coulson had ordered her to rest. She wandered into the galley to grab an apple from the counter.

"Hey."

May shifted slightly so she could see over her shoulder and nodded to Skye, then resumed her work.

"What'cha up to?" she asked casually.

"Soup."

May's contribution to the conversation wasn't long enough to gauge the current condition of the specialist.

"What kind?" Skye prompted, trying to get her to say more.

May looked at her long enough to roll her eyes. Skye grinned at her.

"Okay, so you're cutting up beef, vegetable beef then. Good. I like that kind, unlike when Simmons made split pea. Yuck."

Skye caught a hint of a smile on her S.O.'s face and realized that May hadn't liked it either, even though Skye had seen her eat it. She was, at the moment, very concerned about her SO. Yesterday she'd tried to push through her Tai Chi. This morning she'd called off Tai Chi and training. Now she was here cooking and her movements looked painful. Her little SO could take on far more than her size suggested and usually without getting hurt to this degree. This time, well, it hadn't been good, and it was especially hard on her.

"Need help?" Skye offered.

"No," she replied simply.

Skye hung around and watched as May methodically cut the beef down to size. Skye tried a couple of times to start a conversation but May stayed quiet. With her apple now finished, Skye wandered off... and headed directly to Coulson's office.

"May is in the kitchen making soup," she tattled.

"She makes excellent soup. Which did she choose?" he grinned.

"Vegetable beef, but she skipped Tai Chi and our training this morning. She barely looked at me and I could only get one or two word answers from her. I think she's in far more pain than she'll admit."

"Thank you Skye, I'll go check on her."

Coulson rose and came around his desk to follow Skye out of the office.

Melinda sat in the kitchen. Coulson had told her she'd taken too much damage; he told her she needed to sit one out. She didn't want to sit one out. She was fine... except that yesterday after Tai Chi she'd gone back to her bunk shaking with pain. Tears had even fallen. So today when she could barely pull herself from her bed she'd decided not to try. She'd given Skye the morning off and returned to her bunk to work on some simple stretches to help her move. Even the simplest of stretches had caused enough pain that she knew she had to stop. But she had to do something, and she remembered that Dossi, the woman who'd cared for her when her mother was out, often made soup when she, Melinda, been feeling poorly. She decided soup would be good, so she'd headed to the galley and reached for the big kettle that hung over the cutting board, and winced as pain shot through her lower back. She decided that maybe this once Coulson was right. She sighed and pulled the pot down anyway so that she could make soup. It would give her something to do as she rested. Melinda actually enjoyed cooking. Where it was true that she didn't usually take the time to do it, she did enjoy creating food and it had been awhile. She filled the pot half full of water and then tried not to whimper as she moved it to the stove, setting it to boil. She pulled the meat from the refrigerator, again her back screamed in agony and she settled on the stool by the cutting board. That, at least felt good, until she started to cut the meat. Once the bone was free she'd gotten up and tossed it into the water with some spices, then went back to the cutting board. Using the knife hurt as well and she hated it when Coulson was right. This time she really was hurt. She worked on the meat, finished cutting it and added it to the pot. Then she rinsed her cutting mat, grabbed some onions and potatoes and returned to the cutting board.

"What'cha doing?"

Speak of the devil.

"I thought you were going to rest today," he reminded her.

Melinda glanced over her shoulder and offered him a look of disgust.

"Soup Hm," he continued, watching her.

There was no way she was showing him that he'd been right and she was hurting. She continued to peel and cut the onions.

"You want me to stir this?"

"I can..."

"But you're busy and I'm just standing here."

He expected her to huff a sigh and roll her eyes in annoyance. She didn't.

"Fine," she'd said instead.

He removed his jacket and tie, reached for the spoon and started to stir the meat and seasoning she was using.

"Smells good," he complimented.

She didn't grace him with an answer. Instead she focused on dicing the onions without tears forming in her eyes. She took the onions to him, and then settled back on the stool to work on peeling and dicing potatoes. He watched as she worked, her back was to him and he could see by the way she held herself that what she was doing caused her pain. He wondered what he could do to help her, and knew that she wouldn't allow much. He knew that normally she easily over looked pain, so this had to be bad. Getting something from Simmons was out of the question. He stirred the soup. She got up, brought diced potatoes over, expertly adding them to the pot without splashing. She took the spoon away from Coulson and started to stir. He watched the pain ripple across her back. Very gently he rested his warm hand on the small of her back. He knew she wanted to protest, he could see it, but his hand having been over the boiling soup was very warm and it felt very good. She stirred the soup. He stood beside her, hand against her back, feeling the occasional blast of pain shoot through her. His other hand reached for the spoon and he gently took it away. He felt her attempted sigh but she made no move to take it back.

"I smell onion, garlic... peppercorn?" he asked.

She nodded, watching him stir her soup.

"It's been a long time since we cooked together. I hope you don't mind."

"Apron," she stated simply.

"Yeah, you're right. Stir this for a minute."

Coulson put an apron over his white shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Then he put his warm hand against her lower back and took the spoon away. He returned to stirring, waiting for the pot to return to boiling. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. He was just there for her. His hand felt good against her back. After several minutes she pulled away, went to get celery and a few more onions and prepared those. He made certain that his right hand was warm again and when she brought the new vegetables he rested his hand gently on her back. She stayed by him to watch him stir.

"Later, when the soup is done, would you be willing to be my Guinea pig? I have some new oils that I'd like to try."

"Phil," she hesitated.

"I'd be extra gentle," he promised.

A half chuckle escaped her, tugging mercilessly at her sore back. Who did she think she was trying to keep a secret about her pain from him? He knew. He always knew when something was close to being seriously wrong with her. Then again, she knew how to read him equally well. Of course he'd know. She nodded slowly.

"My other hand is warmer now, want to switch?"

A hint of a smile graced her lips as they traded places and he put his other hand on the small of her back.

"What else goes in?"

"Nothing, until we add the frozen tomato puree and the frozen vegetables."

He could hear the pain in her voice. No wonder she hadn't spoken to Skye.

"How did you get frozen..."

"I asked Billy."

He smiled at her and they were quiet, working together making soup. She looked up at him and for a moment the desire to step into his arms and rest her face against his chest was so strong that she stepped away from him.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

She crossed back to the stool and sunk down on it, shaking her head. He decided to let it go and give her some space. He continued to stir the soup. After several minutes of rest she rose and went to the spice rack, picked out a container, wrapped her hand around it so he couldn't see what it was and came to add it to the soup.

"I know that scent," he promised her. And he did but he couldn't name it. She returned the container to the spice rack and spun it gently.

"Secret ingredient, hmm," he commented. She grinned. "I'll figure it out you know."

She knew he would. It was why she'd done it that way. Now he wasn't thinking about her and that, she decided, was good. He stirred the soup until it was boiling well enough to stir itself. Then he made her a cup of tea and him a cup of coffee and they sat together in the kitchen.

"I worry about you, you know," he told her simply.

"I know," she sighed. "And I try to appreciate it, but that goes against who I am."

"Thank you for trying."

"Thank you for being here."

"The project is bigger than you thought then?"

"There is... more to my damage than I anticipated," she found herself admitting.

"Do you need..." but the look in her eyes stopped him cold.

She got up and went to check on the soup, stirred it, then came back to sit by him and enjoy her tea.

"I've got it," she promised.

"It's going to take a lot of stirring once you add the frozen stuff," he reminded her. "The others can observe the world for a couple more hours. You know, we need to go recruiting again," he reminded her.

She nodded.

"Wish I had a lead," he admitted.

"Try Ops."

"The Academy?"

She nodded.

"I suppose most were there because of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Ops wouldn't be the talent Hydra would reach for first. It's worth a shot. I just need to avoid another Ward."

They continued to discuss recruitment, well, he talked recruitment. Her one to two word answers didn't count as a discussion. Then she got up to add her partially thawed tomato puree and the room took on a wonderful new smell as she stirred. He kept an eye on her and didn't leap to her aid too quickly. He let her feel some of it first. But it wasn't long before he was at her side, his hand on her back. She didn't object.

"Mmm..." Fitz commented, wandering in with a smile on his face. "It smells like home."

"Forty-five minutes," she told him.

"Should I make my mother's biscuits? It would time out about right."

May nodded at him and he set to work. Coulson sighed quietly. He was enjoying having May to himself in the kitchen.

Fitz noticed that Coulson's hand was on May's back but he chose not to read into it as he moved about the kitchen gathering ingredients and mixing his dough. He did notice when May surrendered the spoon to Coulson and went to the stool to sit. She watched as Fitz kneaded the dough. Her eyes were puzzled.

"Haven't you ever made biscuits?"

She shook her head. Fitz launched into the tales his mother had told him as a boy about how the recipe had been passed down from his great, great grandmother and that the recipe hadn't changed, only the method of the harvesting of the ingredients. She sat listening and smiled her thanks when he was done. Then she gathered the frozen vegetables, added them to the soup and took the spoon from Coulson. She winced involuntarily as she lifted the spoon into the pot but seemed fine once she was stirring. Coulson's hand found the small of her back. Fitz put the biscuits in the oven and started on a salad to keep busy. He wasn't usually uncomfortable around Coulson and May but he also recognized that May was hurting and knew she wouldn't want attention called to that. Fitz finished the salad, and then moved to set the table. When he was done he checked the biscuits and she caught his eye.

"About ten minutes more," he told her.

She nodded, turned the spoon over to Coulson and went to sit on the stool again. This time she pulled out her tablet.

'Dinner,' she typed. 'Is complements of Fitz, Coulson and myself. It shall be ready in fifteen minutes. Hope you are hungry.'

Coulson, Fitz noticed, had automatically assumed the heavy jobs, transferring the soup from the pot to the serving bowls, carrying the bowls to the tables. Four fit everyone comfortably now and everyone was there, waiting. May observed from a distance at first but this team accepted her actions and started without her. Finally she settled in by Coulson and he took great pride in serving her, knowing to keep her portions light. The group chatted and laughed, complimented the chefs and ate. May enjoyed Fitz' biscuit so much she managed to snag a second. That definitely made him smile. Two of Simmons' techs volunteered to do the clean up.

When they were done Coulson took May upstairs. He settled her on the couch in the front room of his suite, setting the oils to warm, changing clothes and preparing a place for her to lie comfortably. When he came back around the corner he found her asleep. Knowing that would do more for her than anything, he grabbed his tablet and went into the bedroom to work so he wouldn't disturb her. He knew this week was going to be rough for her and he could only hope that she'd let him continue to be there for her.


End file.
